


Sweet Kiss

by Thestarontheleft



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Aged Up, Angst, M/M, Older Jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22031947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thestarontheleft/pseuds/Thestarontheleft
Summary: Jaskier's never told anyone who 'Her sweet kiss' was really about.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 28
Kudos: 682





	Sweet Kiss

It’s funny, that years later Jaskier’s most requested song still stings his heart, just a little, every time he performs. The ladies that constantly request it, that beg him to repeat the lyrics back to them and play it again, “just once more” – they have no idea, never even get close to the story behind it. 

Jaskier is older now, though still well-aware he’s good-looking enough that he never has any trouble with women. He does not try for men, anymore. The girls often call to him, interrogate him about this song, in particular. They all want to know the name of the woman who broke his heart, who made the famous Jaskier fall in love, then out of it again. He remains notoriously close-lipped about it, and amongst the Continent it is well-known he never gives away the backstories to his ballads. Nevertheless, the women all ask, as though they all believe they are the ones who can pry the secret out of him. 

Jaskier does not understand it. He sees the lyrics as plain as the day he wrote them – he cannot be more obviously resenting a woman, not loving her. The love of the song – the person he is really, truly talking to, well. Jaskier does not think his audiences would believe this ballad and his old classic _Toss a coin to your Witcher_ romp were written about the same man. Sometimes he doesn’t believe it either. 

Years pass, and Jaskier has grown again. He wonders, fleetingly, if the witcher has grown at all, if his silver hair remains silver. His assistant laughingly informs him she does not believe Jaskier is capable of mentally growing up, and this makes Jaskier grin. The ballad is still loved, still played at weddings, much to his amusement. It does not seem fitting, considering the lyrics (he learnt long ago, no one really listens to the lyrics). 

His assistant, Mey, is a wry girl with a sense of humour that sometimes even Jaskier cannot keep up with. He wonders if this is what it was like for Geralt, to have to live with someone who was so obviously considering the world on another level. Perhaps it is his punishment, to be given someone to torture him in the same way. He likes the irony hiding there. She and her girlfriend Lara remind him of himself and Geralt too, in a way. He hopes they make it further in life. 

Jaskier hates to consider himself wise (because that would also mean old), but even he knows when his own voice is fading. Mey is cataloguing all his songs for him – they will live on, but Jaskier does not know how he feels about other people singing them. If no-one knows the true meaning, how can they sing with the same love, the same fervour? He makes a decision, and calls Mey into his study. 

“Take me through it verse by verse then”, Mey prompts. Jaskier shuts his eyes.  
__

> _The fairer sex, they often call it.  
>  But her love’s as unfair as a crook.  
>  It steals all my reason.  
>  Commits every treason  
>  Of logic, with naught but a look. _

Mey hums it for him – as though Jaskier needs reminding. 

“It’s not about a woman” he blurts, but Mey just shrugs and keeps writing. “It – it’s about Geralt. The witcher.” This makes her put her pen down, more than interested. Jaskier continues, mocking; “Yes, I know, he’s very beautiful and was completely out of my league-” Mey laughs and rolls her eyes. “But when someone saves your life multiple of times with his stupid silvery hair and giant arms…” he shrugs. “We travelled together, saved people together – or at least he did while I hid behind him. I liked him. And he, for a while at least, loved me. And then he didn’t.”

“Did you love him?” Mey tentatively asks. Jaskier grins. 

“Have you ever known me to write a song that wasn’t about someone I loved?”

“You’ve written two about him, then”, observes Mey. Jaskier nods.

“One for when I met him” he says. “And one for when I left.”

Mey discusses it with Lara, afterwards, in their room. 

“It’s so obvious now” she sighs. “It’s a warning, not a love letter”. 

“Not to mention ‘Garrotter’ is obviously just a cute stand-in for ‘Geralt’” Lara points out.

“Shit” mutters Mey. “The entire Continent, us included, is so thick. How didn’t we see this?” 

They pause, thinking about it. 

“Do you think he knows? Geralt, the witcher of Rivia. That it’s about him?”, says Lara. 

“I hope so”, says Mey. 

In the room next door, Jaskier is thinking the same thing. 

Later that week, the ‘Continent-famous’ bard Jaskier gives his final performance. He laughs and japes with the crowd, feeding off the energy. They adore him, and he gives it all back. He encores with Her Sweet Kiss, and many women and men alike find themselves with wet cheeks. 

_But the story is this, she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss  
Her sweet kiss, oh oh. _

The crowd move and dance together. Jaskier, so often vivid and bright onstage, sits for the final verse, fingers deft and confident. The crowd quiet, ears stretching for his last verse. It is not hard, to imagine him alone in his room, composing it as a much younger man. He continues;

 _I’m weak my love, and I am wanting._  
He has been told by so many people that this is their favourite lyric of his. He wants to tell them the first time he sung it he cried.  
_If this is the path I must trudge_  
Should he have done it differently?  
_I welcome my sentence_  
Jaskier has never welcomed anything less.  
_Give to you my penance_  
He wonders how long it’s been, really. He was never much for counting time.  
_Garrotter, jury and judge!_  
Jaskier lets the crowd sing the final chorus, smiling and harmonising with his lute.  
_She’ll destroy with her sweet kiss,  
her sweet kiss, oh oh_

They love him, and he loves them. They cheer, as he bows for the last time.

His head, as he rises, glimpses some silvery hair at the back of the hall. And for a moment, he lets himself believe who he hopes it was.


End file.
